


Tired of No's and other What if's

by WhatButAVillain



Series: Lies for Rent and Prices Paid [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25098568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatButAVillain/pseuds/WhatButAVillain
Summary: A series of what if's centered mostly around when Crowley and Aziraphale learn the truth about one another. Chapter 1 is centered around 1793 and the Bastille and Crowley is tired of hearing no from his angel.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Lies for Rent and Prices Paid [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761784
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42





	Tired of No's and other What if's

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of What ifs written for fans of Lies for Rent and Prices Paid that wanted to see what would happen if Crowley had stopped letting Aziraphale's fears and no's stop him from taking what he wants and coming clean about who he is. So to all of you and Especially Izabella95 who high key asked for this and gave me a couple of time periods to play with. This series is for you.

It is in France when he finally snaps. The year is 1793 and the angel is locked in the Bastille waiting for execution when Crowley comes to the rescue. He arrives, freezing time, to find his angel chained like an animal. The sight of manacles around his pretty wrists does something to Crowley causing his trousers to tighten.

“Animals,” he hears his angel call the humans. Finally his angel is getting it. They are animals meant for slaughter.

“Animals don’t kill each other with clever machines, angel. Only humans do that.” He says instead. Clever human people with their clever machines and creativity.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale exhales smiling brilliantly and turning to face him. “Oh good Lord…” his smile drops and Crowley feels as much as sees his eyes roving his body.

“What the deuce are you doing locked up in the Bastille? I thought you were opening a bookshop.” He asks genuinely confused. He left the angel in England searching for the perfect place to purchase a shop. He was meant to be with the writers not in a jail cell.

“I was.” Aziraphale says. “I got peckish.” He admits sullenly.

“Peckish?” Crowley asks, stunned.

“If you must know, it was the crêpes. You can’t get decent ones anywhere but Paris. And the brioche…” He admits as an afterthought.

“So you just popped across the Channel during a revolution, because you wanted something to nibble? Dressed like that?” _Angel. You should have said something I can give you something to nibble._ He doesn’t say. But he considers making his angel flush with it.

“I have standards.” his angel protests. “I had heard they were getting a bit carried away here but…”

Crowley feels like laughing but refrains. “This is not getting ‘carried away’. This is cutting off lots of people’s heads very efficiently with a big head cutting machine. Why didn’t you just perform another miracle and go home?”

“I was reprimanded last month. They said I’d performed too many frivolous miracles. I got a strongly worded note from Gabriel.” Aziraphale admits, not quite scared but certainly upset.

“You were lucky I was in the area.” Crowley croons standing up from where he had been lounging next to the bars. And coming to circle his angel. Orbiting around and around.

“I suppose I am,” his angel says coyly, not bothering to keep him in his sights. “Why are you here?”

Crowley, lets lies drip from his teeth as sweet as honey. A partial lie at least. “My lot sent me a commendation for outstanding job performance. So I thought I should find out what they were commending me for.” He is going to give himself a commendation after all. Not wholly a lie.

“So all this is your demonic work? I should have known!” And they may not have been as close this last century since Crowley ran away from _Hamlet_ but the doubt stings. It means he is getting closer to Heaven again. Or at least that’s what Crowley tells himself.

“Nah. Humans thought it all up themselves. Nothing to do with me.” His angel breathes a sigh of relief then tenses again as Crowley’s hands come up to his shoulders and run down his arms. Crowley steps up flush behind him and buries his face in the crook of his angel’s neck. “Like this, they couldn’t possibly say you agreed. Chained up as you are. Let me?” Crowley asks softly into Aziraphale’s ear.

Aziraphale swallows heavily but his head is tilting to give Crowley more room for his lips grazing the side of his neck. “I...Crowley,” he pants out.

And Crowley is forcefully pushing him up against the wall. The angel’s hands braced in front of him. Aziraphale gives a gasp of startled surprise but does not protest. Crowley’s hands begin to rove his sides and under his great ridiculous coat coming to rest on his soft stomach. Toying with the buttons of his waistcoat. Aziraphale is breathing heavily but he is not saying no. Worse to Crowley’s ears he is not saying yes. If this is going to have any hope of working, to fell this too perfect angel he has to want it. He has to say he wants it.

“Angel,” Crowley’s forked tongue flicks against his angel’s ear as he breathes into it. “What do you want? Tell me.” He is not begging. He is Satan and he does not beg an angel of the Lord for anything. He can take what he wants at any time. But this angel. He can’t take what he really wants. This angel has to choose it. Choose to Fall.

“Crowley, please.” And he goes silent.

Crowley gives a vicious growl and pushes his angel further into the wall until Aziraphale is flush with the wall and the chains are digging painfully into his wrists. Maybe the angel doesn’t have to Fall. He can just steal him and keep him chained to his bed. From everything that Aziraphale has told him through the years, it isn’t like Gabriel or the other Archangels care about what happens to him.

“I’m doing you a courtesy asking for your permission, Angel.” Crowley hisses and his hands are no longer toying with the buttons of his angel’s waistcoat but instead are trailing up and down the inside of his thighs lightly.

“Crowley,” his angel gasps and his legs shift minutely opening slightly giving him space. But there is still no ‘yes’, no ‘please’, no ‘take me I’m yours’.

“Oh, Angel, why do you deny yourself?” Crowley murmurs into the neck he is nuzzling.

“If Heaven finds out you defiled an angel, they will destroy you. I can’t let that happen to you, Crowley.” Aziraphale whispers, voice shaking and legs trembling.

“They can try. I’m not so easy to destroy.” Crowley whispers back.

“Holy water…” Aziraphale starts to protest and Crowley rolls his eyes.

“Against the rules of combat.” Crowley reminds him mouthing at the pulse point on his angel’s neck. He bites lightly to hear the angel gasp and buck into the hands trailing around his groin, intentionally ignoring the rapidly hardening length so close to his hands.

“Th-th-they could…” Aziraphale trails off as Crowley’s fingers dance lightly down the length of him the touch electrifying even through the heavy material of his trousers.

“Not even Hell could stop me, Angel.” Crowley assures as his hands finally begin to undo the buttons on Aziraphale’s trousers.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale shudders in his grasp.

“I’m getting pretty tired of hearing nothing from you, Angel. I think it’s time to take what I want.” Crowley tells him softly. His hands have deftly undone the buttons on his angel’s trousers and while one hand splays itself low on his stomach the other reaches in to grip his angel’s cock lightly. It is already hot and hard in his hand. Aziraphale’s protestations not as heartfelt as he makes it seem.

“And, what do you want?” Aziraphale gasps.

“I want you chained to my bed. I want you kneeling at my feet, worshiping at my feet. I want to fuck you anytime I want to. And I want you to beg me for more.” Crowley tells him his voice and grip on Aziraphale’s cock growing harder as he speaks until Aziraphale gives a sharp cry at the end of his speech.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale cries out as his hips thrust into the hand around him and his head is thrown back against Crowley’s shoulder. His breath shudders in his chest and Crowley feels hot tears against his cheek from where his face is pressed against his angel’s.

“Yes, Angel?” Crowley asks calmly.

“Please.” Aziraphale answers.

“Please what, Angel? Please more?” Crowley asks as his hand loosens its grip around Aziraphale’s cock and his fingers dance lightly down the length.

Aziraphale gives a heaving sob and his breath pants out at the loss of pressure around his member.

Crowley turns his head to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s tear streaked face. “Just relax, Angel. Let me take care of you.” Crowley croons as he pushes Aziraphale’s trousers down past his arse and thighs. He can feel the angel trembling in his arms. “This great ridiculous coat of yours is in the way, Angel.” Crowley growls as he gathers the coat tails to push aside and get his first look at Aziraphale’s arse without anything between it and his eyes and, soon to be, hands.

“S-sorry?” Aziraphale whispers shakily.

“We’ll just have to get rid of it.” Crowley tells him smiling coyly. He pauses a moment to hear Aziraphale protest before he snaps and the coat is off and sitting on the stool behind them.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whines.

“Angel,” Crowley responds calmly. “I didn’t get rid of it completely. Your clothing is safe with me,” he adds and Aziraphale sighs. “Now let’s look at you.” Crowley says grabbing fistfuls of Aziraphale’s arse and kneading them. Aziraphale gasps and jumps at the sudden touch but Crowley doesn’t let go.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasps as he rocks forward into the wall.

“This arse,” Crowley responds. “I can’t tell you how many times I have dreamed of sinking into this arse.”

“Please,” Aziraphale mouths and Crowley leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of the Angel’s mouth.

“Hush now, Angel. I’m going to take good care of you. Just relax.” Crowley assures and Aziraphale shakes his head frantically. “It will be much worse for you to fight it.” Crowley says lowly, his eyes going steely.

Crowley let’s go of the mounds of flesh in his hands to step up behind his angel and rut against the soft flesh of the angel’s arse. His hands find their way back around his waist and over Aziraphale’s cock. Aziraphale trembles pressing backwards away from the touch and then forwards away from the hardness he feels pressing at his back. The effect is rocking into Crowley’s touch.

“That’s it, Angel. Just let yourself have this.” Crowley croons and Aziraphale sobs out something indistinguishable. Crowley’s hand around Aziraphale’s cock tightens minutely letting the angel thrust into the circle of his fist at his own pace. “I want to have you, Angel.” Crowley says softly, rubbing his cheek against Aziraphale’s own tear streaked one.

His free hand comes up to cup his angel’s chin and, as Aziraphale lets out a startled cry, thrusts two of his fingers into the angel’s open mouth. Aziraphale chokes on another cry and Crowley soothes him through it with soft words of praise. “That’s it, Angel. You take it so well. Just relax. I will make this so good for you.”

Crowley slowly begins to thrust his fingers in and out of his angel’s mouth as his hand around his cock works at the same slow pace. Soon his fingers are coated in slick spit and he takes his hand out of Aziraphale’s mouth to gently probe at his entrance. The feeling of his fingers gently circling his rim has Aziraphale jumping forward into the hand around his dick.

“Hush, Angel. It’s alright. Just relax. It feels good I promise.” Crowley whispers gently into the ear next to his mouth.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sobs as he trembles fighting to relax.

“That’s it, Angel.” Crowley murmurs feeling the angel in his arms relaxing and slowly pushing his finger in to breach the muscles of Aziraphale’s entrance. With a thought and a miracle, Crowley’s hands are slicker and the intrusion is smoother. Aziraphale shudders and stays deathly still as Crowley works him open with his finger. It doesn’t take long before Crowley is sliding another finger beside the first and thrusting gently. Aziraphale heaves a sigh and Crowley strokes along his length once causing the angel to tremble.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale murmurs tilting his head back onto Crowley’s shoulder and letting the tension drain out of him.

“Angel,” Crowley responds trailing kisses up the exposed column of Aziraphale’s neck. His hand around the angel’s cock is slowly stroking him to keep him hard and his is leaking precome making the strokes nice and smooth and in time with the thrusting of Crowley’s fingers. Crowley crooks his fingers, searching, and Aziraphale gives a great sob, panting, and jolts in Crowley’s arms.

“Hush, Angel. It’s alright.” Crowley reassures his fingers pressing gently on the bundle of nerves and gland. Aziraphale swallows heavily and twitches in Crowley’s grasp. Crowley takes pity on his angel and ceases his relentless probing of his prostate and slides in a third finger. Another miracle has more lube on his fingers as Crowley continues stretching his angel to prepare him to take his cock. Aziraphale moves infinitesimally to rock onto the fingers in his arse and Crowley smiles against his neck.

“That’s it, Angel. You take me so well. You’re going to take my cock just as well. And when we are done I’ll take you home and we can do it all over again.” Crowley promises as Aziraphale leans forward his head against the stone wall and his hands still chained and trapped between him and the wall.

Finally, Crowley deems his angel ready and slowly removes his fingers from Aziraphale’s entrance causing the angel to let out a thin whine of something needy. Crowley pauses a moment to consider. He does not want to let go of Aziraphale’s cock to free himself from his trousers but neither does he want to get lube onto his clothes and so with a small miracle, his trousers are around his ankles and he is wiping the rest of the lube onto his aching and neglected cock. Taking himself in hand he guides his cock to the head of Aziraphale’s channel and slowly pushes in past the guardian muscles.

Crowley and Aziraphale let out matching groans as Crowley finally settles sheathed to the hilt in Aziraphale’s body. Crowley gives them both long moments to get used to the feeling before he is rocking back and forth in the hot channel, gentle rolls of his hips as Aziraphale pants and swallows heavily.

“Oh, G- For someone’s sake you feel so good around me, Angel, like you were made for my cock.” Crowley moans. His hands meet around the angel’s waist and his hand that still is slick with the remnants of miracled lube replaces the mostly dry hand around Aziraphale’s length and Aziraphale gives a mighty moan.

“That’s right, Angel. Just relax into it.” Crowley murmurs as his thrusts pick up into proper thrusting, pulling out and pushing in, out and in.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale moans his head thrown back on Crowley’s shoulder. “C-C-Cro-Crowley,” he says again, his breath being punched out of him by the force of Crowley’s thrusts now and he whines high in his throat.

“Angel.” Crowley responds breathlessly. His hand is moving around Aziraphale’s flesh and his hips are pistoning back and forth and he is focused on making sure the angel finishes before he does. His hand moving ever faster matching his hips.

“Please,” Aziraphale manages to gasp out.

“That’s it. Tell me what you want. What do you need to come?” Crowley asks his hand still moving and his cock still buried deep in his angel’s arse.

“Kiss me?” Aziraphale mouths soundlessly before turning his head to press a sloppy kiss against the corner of Crowley’s mouth. “Kiss me.” He whimpers again and Crowley growls as he turns to devour his angel’s open mouth. Tongues battling between their lips and teeth clacking as Crowley sucks on Aziraphale’s bottom lip to nip at it gently and soothing it with his tongue.

“Come for me, Angel. Aziraphale.” Crowley commands against Aziraphale’s lips and with a cry, Aziraphale spills over Crowley’s hand. The spasms of Aziraphale’s channel around him cause Crowley to give a cry as he spills thrusting erratically into the heat of his angel. “Fuck.” Crowley murmurs.

Crowley stands panting for several moments still buried deep inside Aziraphale until he feels the angel shifting against him. Slowly he removes his messy hand from around Aziraphale’s length and pulls out his softening cock from inside the angel’s channel and with a snap has all the messy fluids cleaned up and his own trousers back up where they belong.

Stepping back up to Aziraphale’s back he slowly reaches out to turn the angel around so he is leaning back onto the stone wall behind him, head tilted back and eyes closed.

“Angel?” Crowley asks gently.

Aziraphale swallows heavily before opening his eyes and meeting Crowley’s gaze through the dark glasses he is always wearing.

“Angel?” Crowley steps forward and presses Aziraphale into the wall. He sees Aziraphale swallow as he presses up into him. He ducks his head as he steps forward to pull up Aziraphale’s trousers and put them to rights. When Aziraphale is presentable again, Crowley stands before him hands on either side of his angel’s head and leaning over him against the wall.

Aziraphale swallows before meeting Crowley’s gaze. “Is it what you wanted?” Aziraphale’s voice is tremulous.

“I think a better question is, was it what you wanted?” Crowley says calmly.

Aziraphale looks away without answering. Crowley lifts one hand and uses it to cup his angel’s chin and raise it to look at him again. He ducks his head to press a kiss to the angel’s lips. Aziraphale lets his head be tilted this way and that and responds by opening his mouth obediently for Crowley’s questing tongue. Crowley ends the kiss gently and backs away from the wall. A snap has the manacles on the floor as he turns to pick up Aziraphale’s coat. He shakes out the coat and offers it up to help Aziraphale put it on.

Aziraphale rubs at his chaffed wrists as he steps forward and turns letting Crowley help him put his coat back on. Once on, Crowley brushes imaginary wrinkles and lint off as he circles the angel again. Aziraphale turns back to him and Crowley crowds him against the wall once again and Aziraphale lets himself be led.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asks quietly.

“I think it’s time to go home, Angel.” Crowley says with a dark look on his face.

“I can’t use any miracles to get home.” Aziraphale says softly.

“Then I suppose you are at my mercy,” Crowley muses, his eyes tracking his angel’s lips.

“I suppose so,” his angel agrees.

Crowley pauses before he snaps and when they rematerialize, Aziraphale looks around in confusion.

“Where are we, Crowley?” Aziraphale asks softly. He isn’t afraid. He hasn’t been afraid since Crowley came into his cell. Crowley would know. But he is wary.

“My rooms.” Crowley responds just as softly. When Aziraphale meets his gaze he adds. “In Hell.” And that draws a fearful look.

“I didn’t realize you had rooms in Hell.” Aziraphale says searchingly.

“I should hope I have rooms in Hell. I rule it after all.” Crowley tells him plainly.

Aziraphale’s eyes go wide and his pupils are blown open but it isn’t fear. It’s not quite arousal either. It’s somewhere between the two. “Lucifer?” Aziraphale says breathily.

“Not any more.” Crowley answers firmly and Aziraphale swallows as he nods in acquiescence.

“Sorry,” Aziraphale says bowing his head.

“Best make yourself comfortable, Angel.” Crowley says stepping up into Aziraphale’s space. “I’m not letting you go again,” He adds at the angel’s look.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale tries to admonish but Crowley interrupts.

“The Archangel’s won’t even know where you are and they won’t care either. You know they won’t. Stay with me.” Crowley tells him meeting his eyes and not letting go.

“I…” Aziraphale starts.

“Stay with me.” Crowley says again firmly, his hands wrapping around Aziraphale’s wrists and crowding him back against the bed where there are chains at the head and feet. Aziraphale’s breathing picks up as he is forced to sit on the edge of the bed. His gaze never leaving Crowley’s he swallows and nods slightly, hesitantly.

“Okay,” Aziraphale says softly. “Okay,” he says again firmly. “Okay,” he promises.


End file.
